I’m no poet, but I’m very jealous of those who can write poetry. Why not contribute a poem – 100 words or less? (From Emma Baird)

99 thoughts on “Poetry

  1. Jane Reid

    Robert Frost had miles
    To go before he could sleep
    On a snowy eve.

    Tomorrow I too have
    Promises to keep, but snow
    And ice will jail me.

    All of which may show
    A horse is the way to go
    In ice and snow.

  2. Eric Smith

    @Jan Jorgensen–scanned the thread above and noticed your reference to Ferlinghetti’s “The World is a Beautiful Place.” I learned of that one in 1967 or so. I remembered it because of its allusion to Hamlet’s “. . . Thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to. . . .”

  3. Eric Smith


    You skirted the issue,
    No awkward diplomat
    Why you kept your golden
    Sphere from mine.
    Afraid to boil over I
    Remained outside even
    As your eleventh-hour concession
    To consummations arrived
    Is it true?
    Are you declining in Boston?
    Those fine Texas fingers drumming
    Into a stark table?
    Keep drinking, Susan.
    I, the one man you never embraced,
    Insist upon perfection.

  4. Gordon Lawrie

    This is a very, very rare effort which popped into my head today.

    Tiny Creature

    Tiny creature, nameless yet,
    What adventures lie in wait
    For you, what simple twists of fate
    Will shape your destiny?
    How will fortune dictate
    Your journey?

    If God exists, I’ll ask him this:
    Protect this little one with all of His
    Heavenly power, wrapped in a kiss –
    But tiny creature, never fear,
    If there’s no God or he cannot hear
    Those who love you will be there
    To love, to hold, to feed, to care.

    Go forward, tiny creature, go
    Yours is the day that’s yet to come
    Yours is the world I’ll never know;
    May those tiny, sleepy eyes some day
    See where a better future lies.
    Pretend I can cast some magic spell –
    I do it now and wish you well:
    Enjoy your life, enjoy the show,
    And as you grow, the world will grow.

  5. Russell Conover

    Indeed … very nice, Gordon. I haven’t written a new poem in way too long (not to mention the longer stories I’ve been putting off for even longer), and you’ve inspired me to get the ball rolling on both.

  6. Janette Jorgensen

    the anti-eucharist

    let there be: (seedless)

    ever aware of market values
    let us create
    and move beyond
    planned obsolescence
    to the hybrid which can
    not reproduce itself

    insure seed sales

    do not let them be
    fruitful, multiplying
    filling the earth with bounty

    once life waited within fruit
    vulnerable to disease, easy
    prey to insect and bird
    now let us reanimate with proteins
    infuse with pesticide

    pregnant with death
    let fruits die
    having lost their savour
    in the biotechnological process

    let us not question our wisdom
    our motives

    do not ask us:
    what becomes of those
    who ingest death?

  7. Janette Jorgensen

    I’ve just revised this and I am still wondering… perhaps I want to switch two stanzas around again …. hmmm… maybe “pregnant with death” stanza needs to go before “once life waited within fruit” stanza ???

  8. Eric Smith

    I’d say “no.” I was going to recommend moving the “pregnant” stanza to the end, if anything.

    Maybe we can start a thread of stories we previously submitted and want to rewrite. Boy, would that be weird or what? Or maybe a thread of stories by other people that we rewrite for them. I have 135 to work on. Well, maybe that’s not such a good idea after all. Better to keep going forward?

  9. Janette Jorgensen

    Oh Russell, this will drive you crazy …after all of your trials and tribulations with notices … I just received an email from LinkedIn with a comment from Eric on this post, which isn’t even posted yet !! Doesn’t that beat all ?!

  10. Gordon Lawrie

    “Pregnant with death” is a good phrase, isn’t it?

    But even although I agree with the thrust of your poem, Jan, I have to declare an interest: I like my grapes seedless and positively hate it when I accidentally chew an orange pip. (I don’t often eat them as a result.) You’ll be relieved to know that I can deal with tomato seeds.

  11. Janette Jorgensen

    But, Gordon, have you ever noticed that the fruit with the seeds has more flavour?! Pregnant with death is a tragic image but I thought it was startling – so I used it…

  12. Jane Reid

    Residents of eastern U.S. will recognize this

    An Inexact Science

    The upper air filled
    With threatening moisture
    And cold. Bad omens

    An angry storm loomed
    Large in predictions of danger
    But fickle winds veered.

    Weather prediction
    Can leave not snow but egg
    On forecasters’ faces.

  13. I’m still catching up on posting the new poems, due to my LinkedIn comment e-mail disappearance. The next few poems, however, were recently posted to the F.F.F. Challenge discussion in the LinkEds & Writers group. I’ll try to post a few poems here periodically, but in the meantime, enjoy. — Russell

  14. (Untitled) by Heide Hepler

    There once was a lady named Emma
    Who knew that her work was quite clever.
    She wrote every day,
    With or without pay,
    And knew she’d be remembered forever.

  15. Charles Pellegrino

    Isaac Asimov, to Home on the Range:
    Clone, clone of my own,
    with her Y chromosome changed for an X.
    And when I’m alone, with my very own clone,
    we’ll have better incest than Edipis Rex.

  16. (The following comments may be slightly out of order, but hopefully they’re all here.)

    Gordon Lawrie

    Well I’m glad you didn’t get the “historic snowstorms” that were predicted, Jane. Be grateful you don’t live in the British Isles, where the Atlantic climate means that the forecast is statistically wrong every sixth day. That doesn’t sound too bad until it’s pointed out that apparantly if you predict that tomorrow’s weather will be the same as today’s, you’ll get it right 75%.

    And as I write, there’s a rare – and forecast to the minute – snowstorm in Edinburgh. That doesn’t happen too often.

  17. Jane Reid

    Thank you, Emma and Gordon. Weather forecasting is still treacherous — far too many variables, But some of our TV meteorologists like to warn that; the sky is falling any time there’s a prospect of storm.

  18. Ann-Louise Truschel

    Emma, an idea for future writing contributions:

    Take the last line of someone else’s story or poem and make it the beginning line of your story or poem.


  19. Eric J. Smith


    Great idea. I think this idea requires a separate thread. Suggest you start one and state the ground rules–such as make all contributions so many words (100, 250, 500) and throw down the gauntlet. The next person begins with the last line (or any line?) and then, given the number of words prescribed, will have space to go off in a new direction and create something that stands on its own. Since the continuing stories are bounded by a certain number of words, Gordon and Russell can include them in their blogs. I like the idea since it gives participants a nudge to get started. Yes, major cool!


  20. Tammy Mezera

    Ohhhh .. now poetry is more my flavor 🙂 I undoubtedly love short stories too!

    The Holding

    Where are we
    in the sensing, the push of pulse
    if I am honest
    I miss evaporating into the air
    the density of our world
    becoming ghostly
    traveling admissions
    meeting anomalies
    touching by curiosity and questions

    Darling, what are afraid of
    in yielding again to the unknown
    or is truth left only for strangers
    to embody change
    a willing possession and purge
    equal to lust, resistance lost
    we must now break definition
    and move from our knowing
    to endanger who we are
    and what we have
    to soar again
    in a sky too vast
    for the holding

    Copyright Tammy Mezera 2015

  21. Russell Conover

    Shoot–I haven’t written any new poems in way too long. I really need to advance beyond the simpler haikus and branch into some more complex stuff. Life’s busy, but we all have (or should make) time for writing, right? I’ll see what I can do here.

  22. Gordon Lawrie

    A former colleague died at the weekend. He was a maths teacher, but he much preferred writing poetry. Here’s my favourite, which Leonard Cohen read out at his concerts occasionally.

    Weather Report, by Andrew McGeever

    A pessimist is someone
    who goes around saying
    it’s going to rain.
    I am not a pessimist:
    I’m soaked to the skin.

  23. Marilyn R. Freedman

    As usual, I haven’t hit the target exactly. Two words over this time. But I would love your feedback on this poem that came to me a couple of years ago and has been sitting, waiting to be finished.

    Two context points: the name of the street I live on is Tanglewood Way. The back yard ends in a copse of woods beyond which is another street of houses. The name of that street is Twin Brook. The whole area used to be a farm with an apple orchard. Some of the old apple trees are scattered through the copse of woods, which is divided by a brook that runs in two channels.

    Down in the Tangle Wood

    Down in the tangle wood
    by the twin brook,
    apple trees too old to bear fruit
    catch my hood
    and drop twigs as I pass
    some unknown cone of an object—
    a plant
    poking dark green and dried-blood red
    through the matted sopping leaves
    and snow melt
    of mud season.
    A red stained hole in the snow,
    evidence that the coyote has been by to visit
    the bunnies
    in the pile of fallen branches, old Christmas trees,
    and other detritus of a winter that has lasted
    a bit too long.
    Apple trees too old to bear fruit,
    like me,
    awaken to spring.

  24. Eric J. Smith


    You are easily on or under budget–simply delete the first word, “Down.” That way you lose the double preposition. Later on delete “a bit” in the fourth from the last line–you don’t need those two words–they make your language less immediate and also farther separate “lasted” from “long” which provides you alliteration. You can also delete the “that” and the “by” from the coyote line.


  25. Russell Conover

    Full disclosure: This poem is NOT my own (actually found it on Facebook), but I just had to share.

    Haiku City

    Take me down to Hai-
    ku City where the grass is
    green, and the dammit.

  26. (Note: We’re really behind on posting poems here to WordPress, but are working to catch up again. Thanks for your patience. In the meantime, this poem was posted to the 100-word story page of F.F.F. on LinkedIn.)

    Flying by Eric Smith

    Special snowflakes curl
    Flying past the houses
    Over the tallest buildings
    Pushing down
    Against cold air
    Invisible arms flapping
    Slow, steady
    Eyes closed
    Breathing rhythmically
    Till the sun
    Pushes through the shade
    Opening our eyes
    And we fall
    Into consciousness

  27. Marilyn R. Freedman

    My first thought, Emma, on reading “live in Tanglewood Way” is that I don’t live right in the street! 😉 But I think that use of “in” versus “on” is a difference between American English and Scottish English.

    Another neat thing about Tanglewood is that there is a music “place” in the Berkshires, west of here called Tanglewood Music Center, which is the summer home of the Boston Symphony Orchestra. I’ve loved music all my life. Sometimes I hear it in the sounds around me. I’ve always wanted to go to a Tanglewood concert, but haven’t yet even though I’ve lived in the Boston area for 30 years.


  28. Fog by Eric J. Smith

    Depression starts as fog.
    He penetrates your pores,
    Deadens your synaptic sparks,
    Pulls your flesh into a frown
    As heavy as your most destructive sins.

    Unchecked, he poisons your morning
    Coffee, leaving nothing for the
    Start of the day but doughnut holes,
    Sighs from the diaphragm, and eyes
    Bleary from his insidious smoke.

    Act now before he steals
    Your will, or this sonofabitch
    Will handcuff you to the bed,
    Have his way and leave you
    Shaking, terrified, helpless.

    Act now, throw him off.
    Use your power to sap
    His strength (your weakness).
    Yes, your power to change
    The circumstance that gives
    Him life.

  29. (This one’s being copied from the main hundred-word story thread. I hope to post the more recent poems soon, too. — Russell)

    ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas and St. Nick’s in a Fix, by Jo Oldani Osborne

    “The stockings were hung by the chimney with care
    In hopes that St. Nicholas would soon come to share.

    “Poor kids! I’ve been grounded: Paris Climate Advice.
    No coal for the Naughties, no gifts for the Nice.

    “Who knew my sleigh was a Volkswagen edition,
    Rigged with a chip to fake its emissions?

    “Confoundit! Darnit! Vexing! How Stupid!
    My elves’ work is wasted, the world’s air too soot’ed.

    “What’s more! My name! ‘A PC transgression.’
    My Sainthood, it seems, is simply too Christian.

    “HOWEVER —-
    “Children are children, they all need Love’s light.
    Carbon Foot Print be darned, I’m coming –Tonight!”

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